GESTURE is that movement of the limbs by which we designate some important act or point, in our speaking, and which renders it more vividly important. Gesture should speak in connection with words; and when one is displayed without having a proper signification, it is not merely useless, but detrimental; not merely uncouth, but detracts from the words the speaker would have his audience hear. Who has not, at some time or other, been annoyed by constant gesticulation of the speaker, until it seemed that every sentiment he uttered called the accompaniment of a fist? Gestures which no person could possibly understand, without grace, devoid of every emotional expression; only a constant movement of hands and arms, as if the speaker was anxiously endeavoring to attract attention, not by natural movements, but by swaggering energy of gesticulation; attracting attention like the useless clown, by the oddity and grotesqueness of his manœuvres.

EXPRESSION is that picture of the countenance which is displayed upon our visage, by the harass of our minds; and it is a language which can be instantly read by one glance at the countenance. To represent it, to nature true, in delivery, demands no little discrimination and practice. It is twin with gesticulation, and when truly displayed, has the greatest effect on an audience, as it is one of the most vivid effects of passion. It is also closely connected with modulation. The voice should coincide in tone, to the expression, and as expression changes, versatility of voice should be used.

POSTURE is that disposition of the body, which displays grace, elegance, and nature in every part of oratory. In connection with Gesture and Expression, it makes the complement of action. From the appearance of the speaker, we judge much of his qualities even before we hear his voice; and there is nothing which wins or disgusts an audience more than the manner in which the speaker presents himself before them. Who has not witnessed the uncouthness of posture, I might say, of the mass of our public speakers - crooked over their desks as if they would whisper in our ears whatever they vociferate, bent forward, hunchbacked and misshapen when nothing but their posture makes them thus ?. Negligence alone the trans- · former; by nature they were symmetrical. That action which suits the word to the gesture, the gesture to the word, the feeling to the expression, the expression to the feeling, the posture to the energy, and the energy to the posture, alone is useful in oratory. Let men appear as if their speaking were an art, and grace them with the

action that seems studied; such an orator seldom gains applause or changes the minds of his hearers, no matter how glaring his truths. Acquirements in action sicken and disgust men, unless nature is imitated to the life. Action should become nature herself Making it a mechanical art, as many have attempted to do, is snatching at shadows the student of oratory never grasps. If we lay it down in books, as such a multitude have presumed to do, for the benefit of the student, still he is left to his own judgment which learned posture, gesture, or expresssion to display on the particular occasion. Rules for action can not be laid down in books. Specimens of correct action only can be given; the rules for making them are not there. Practice is the only alternative to become accomplished. Feel, and you will learn to portray; gesture will be natural, expression have countenance, and posture, elegancesuch as must be displayed in the language of true passion, where every movement must be natural, and every expression, as if it could not be avoided. The least labor in action is instantly perceived, and as quickly disgusts. As the painter's knowledge of nature consists in the truthfulness in which he displays light and shade upon the canvas; or the expression posture and gesture, in statuary, the sculptor's genius: so, too, in delivery, the orator's true skill is only evinced in the degree of nature he displays in his acrion.

THIS poem is capable of forming three recitations. The first and second, or the second and third parts may be recited without more of the selection, or the whole poem may be given. Either will be found interesting to an audience. When too much time will not be occupied, the whole poem will not be tedious; as the interest of the story increases with each succeeding line.

CRAZY LULA.

Long I ponder how to tell you,
How to picture love and heart-break,
Paint the heart-break of a woman,
Paint a maid bereft of reason;

Yet I have a legend for you,

Which will show how constant love is;
How, when broken, breaks the reason;
It will vanquish life or reason.

Cazenovia keeps the record,

Of a pioneer, a farmer,

Who, where all around was forest,

With his young wife came and settled;
Bought the wild land settled on it,

With his strong arm felled the forest,
With the tree-trunks reared the log-hut.
Happiness and health dwelt with him,
Howling woods are blooming pastures.
In his mansion bloomed two daughters.
Father, mother, proud of both were,
Loved the elder, she their honor,
Idoled and adored the younger.

Lovely, noble, was the elder,
Beautiful, and yet not pretty,
Vanity had never known her,

Truth and confidence her nature;

How they loved her, all who knew her!
Loved the farmer's elder daughter,
Truthful, noble, Lula Dutton.

Very pretty was the younger-
Rosy cheeks, snow-white complexion,
Eyes so bonny, blue, bewitching,
Form, to wake imagination-

Wild with suitors, without number,
Tongue she had for every lover,
Younger, always had her which-way,
Without reverence for her sister;
Independent, thoughtless, hollow,
She, the farmer's younger daughter,

Witching, roguish Ellen Dutton.

Forth went, from her father's hearth-stone,

Farmer Dutton's elder daughter;

Went into the neighboring township,

Teaching little children wisdom,

Teaching, by her noble nature,

Love and virtue, truest knowledge;

Won their hearts with kindly speaking,

Was so mild and always lovely,

That no pupil disobeyed her;

Changed the wild and reckless student,

To the modest and obeying;

And the modest and obeyng

Were still truer and unswerving.
Thus she ruled, by love and constance,
By her apathy unchanging,
Smiles upon her visage playing.

Think ye that she won no others,
Than the hearts of little children?
Virtue, love, and truth in woman,
Wins the child, adult, and aged-
Child, as it adores its parent,
Aged, as it loves its own-born,

Maiden, as she loves her brother,
And man, as he loves no other —
Thus, this maiden won a lover,
Won him without interchanging
Words coquettish, smiles bewitching,
Without spending pastime with him.
When he told his secret to her,
Told it with an accent faltering,
Told it with a noble blushing,
Was, her heart, so full of loving,
Full of constancy and truth was,
That she gave her heart, exchange for
Heart that seemed to thus adore her?
Gave it freely, did not falter,
Frankly took him to her parents,
Freely told her guiding mother,
Calmly her indulging father.
Guessed the sequel, roguish sister,
Still begrudging her her lover,
Hoping he would soon betray her.
Ellen flaunted, arch, coquetting,
Decked her beauty most enticing,
Ridiculed her noble sister,
With sarcastic, cutting jesting;
Yet, 't was done in such a manner,
Woke no dream of woe in future.
And she offered very frankly,

To receive her sister's burden,

Teach her school. "At home stay, sister,

And prepare-but I will marry!"

To herself said, making ready,

To go courting Lula's lover.

II.

Now the nuptial day was passing,
In her chamber sat the bridal.
Day was fading in the east sky,
Yet he comes not. "Why so tardy?"
Questions oft the maid attending;
"Comes not with you, sister Ellen!
Sure some trouble is portending."
In the farmer's house collected,

Were the neighbors through the township,
Seated there to witness marriage,
Old and young, had come together,
Picked not guests, the farmer's daughter;
Oft then conversation broke short-
"Late it is and still they come not."

Lamp of day is almost burnt out, Objects darken in the distance; Slowly comes a noiseless carriage, Turns up at the farmer's gateway, And out steps the groom intended,

And out steps the sister-bridemaid.

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"They are come!" exclaimed the guests all;

"They are come!" exclaims the bridal;
And as arrow from the cross-bow,
Down the bride flew to her lover;
And the parents, with true feeling,
To their children gave a greeting;
And the friends with rustic bustle,
Seated for the coming nuptial.

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Rather late!" exclaimed the father,

"But 'tis better late than never!

Lead the bride forth,- be united!"

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'Sir," exclaimed the bridegroom blushing,

Emptying a brimful wine glass,
Changing for the bride that bridemaid,
With an air of introduction,

"I will make an explanation:
I, dear father we are married;
I have ta'en your daughter, Ellen ;
Pardon me, I never loved, sir,
Till I saw your second daughter.
Pardon, mother; pardon, sister."

Silence held the crowd in wonder,
Silent stood that bride, all calmness,
Boldly facing her betrayers,

Pale as shrouded death before them.
And her eyes sent such a piercing,

That it touched their false hearts' centers.
See! she makes one feeble gesture;
Now her hands fall on her sister,
On fair Ellen's marble shoulders,
Down her white arms gently gliding.
"Is it true? my eyesight fails me,
Or is this some frantic vision?"
And as hand in sister's hand fell,
Coldest clay then touched false Ellen's,
Made that young wife shriek and shudder.
Glancing at her sister's visage,

Saw her nostrils wide dilating,
Saw the wild glance of her vision
Cheeks as wan as marble mirror,
Lips that shake like aspen quiver –
Made the young wife hide her own face,
In her wedding-jeweled fingers,

And her tears gushed out between them;